


Edge of Black

by laEsmeralda



Series: Temperance and other Virtues [1]
Category: Serenity (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal's neglected libido starts to cause trouble on Serenity; he seeks solace from Shiv, only to realize that he should be pursuing Simon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edge of Black

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place a year or more before _Truth Telling_ , between the series and film. A few _Truth Telling_ readers wanted to know more about Shiv and Mal, so I obliged.

Mal sets his jaw. It isn’t as though he doesn’t hear sexing from time to time, quarters are close. Usually, he can shut it out, like the throb of the engines, or the clang of footsteps passing overhead. They aren’t being particularly loud, it’s just that sound from Kaylee’s bunk carries to his. Usually, distantly, it’s singing, or her cadence of love-talk to the ship. He can’t ever discern words, just the sound of her voice, and he’s fallen asleep to it many times, smile on his face. 

Knowing that she’s a lusty girl, it’s a happy fact that he never hears her looking after herself. He’s aware Kaylee regards her captain as a safe man, someone who would never try for her. And he wouldn't. She could be his child. But she isn’t. Because she isn’t, she instinctively reacts to him, and him to her, on a womanly level. A level she isn’t even aware of, that’s never for him to pursue. It makes him guard her even more vigilantly.

Her plaintive voice not-singing is overly compelling this particular evening and he shifts, uncomfortable in his bunk. He isn’t surprised at the counterpoint of Jayne’s low tones, unlikely as everyone considers that pairing. But hearing her like that, _ta ma de_ , he shudders, hands safely bunched in the sheets. And if he’s frank with himself, there’s an extra stab at that deep vibration answering her. Another place he can never go, not and maintain his authority. A whole other problem.

Sighing, Mal gets up in the dark and dresses, climbing up the ladder to check on the bridge. River’s there, not Wash. He almost backs away. “Captain,” she says, softly, not looking away from the big dark in front of them. He’s relieved that she dropped the strange habit of referring to him as _Daddy_... although he’s flattered that she thinks of him that way. Simon has remarked that she never called their own father that. But again, she’s not a daughter and he has an odd affinity for her brand of crazy.

“Helm,” he replies, teasing back. He takes the other seat, lounges, aware that River is looking at him sidelong. They pass a personable quiet for a quarter hour or so, as she deftly touches controls every few minutes, not messing with Wash’s autoflight, but running through sensors and diagnostics. 

Finally, he sighs and stretches. “Sleep’s a lost cause. Consider me your early relief. Zoe’ll be along in another hour.” He’s a tiny bit surprised that River rises from her seat without protest. More so, when she approaches and stands so near he has to crane his neck. She regards him closely. And all sudden like, she’s in his lap, and he clutches at her on instinct so she doesn’t slide off in a heap. Her hands take a hard grip on his shoulders. “Uh oh,” he says, somewhat too familiar with the intense gaze when leveled at others to ignore its meaning. He swallows hard. “Sorry, sometimes I forget you can sense so much. River, this isn’t yours to worry about.”

Her face leans a little closer, curious, more than curious. “Your wanting is so glowy,” she observes, a tiny shiver going through her. “Gentle. Bright. Warm honey.” She nuzzles his hair. 

His hands are still on her waist and hip. Fervently, he gives silent thanks that she is not a wiggler, that she is River, deathly still until she strikes. Telling himself that Simon only won’t kill him because he will have already killed himself does not stop his cock from filling itself out. He searches for words, or actions, that will solve the moment without hurting her in any way. He desperately does not want to hurt her, or change the easy flow between them that she doesn’t have with many. 

River’s fingers slide along his jaw and tip his face so that he cannot avoid her eyes. “There’s an edge of black beyond the honey,” she declares, planting her feet back on the floor and levering herself to standing. In that moment when he’s feeling tremendous relief, she bends to kiss him full on the lips, tongue flicking against his. It’s over just as quickly. “Like atmo, with space just beyond, sweet, something you regret to leave, even though you’re compelled to.” She glides toward the doorway and turns, a hand on the jamb. “Better look to it soon, else I will come to you. No choice.”

As his heart slows again, he realizes it is time to reconnect with Shiv, no question. He flicks toggles and knobs to send a ‘wave. Afterward, he risks that Zoe might arrive early, a shrinking-small chance because in his state, he only needs about a minute to culminate relief. He is not thinking of River.  
*******

For two days, he bears River’s knowing eyes, and she keeps her distance. 

He leaves overly detailed instructions when they’ve docked. It’s nearly impossible for him to let go of worry for the ship and crew, always some trouble lurking. But he’s the worst trouble if he doesn’t go. Zoe and Wash pass on the leave, more interested in a little privacy, they say—it’s comforting knowing that Zoe has his back, which is perhaps exactly why she offered. Wash doesn’t look displeased.

River catches him on the way out, on solid earth, shawl wrapped tightly. He smiles at her, trying to look like he doesn’t know what her round backside felt like against his ache. She flicks him an incredulous look which turns his expression sheepish. “Well, all-knowing missy, what particular wisdom do you have for me this fine afternoon?” 

That makes her laugh. “Your code. Try to make an exception.”

He huffs a breath and wishes he had better words. “For you?” he asks, hesitantly, gently, determined to set her straight if need be.

Again, the incredulous look. “My name’s not Electra, it’s River.”

This confuses Mal. “I know.” He tamps down his frustration. How infuriating must it be for _her_ not to be able to make herself understood.

Her eyes slide back to the hold, where Simon and Kaylee are finishing inventory, planning a bargaining raid of sorts.

By speed-of-light process of elimination, Mal thinks he comprehends. He meets her eyes again, now lacking that scary, sensual quality of a few nights before. He doesn’t bother to protest his preferences, this one somehow knows. 

“He needs time. Time you don’t have right now,” she says, not waiting for him to say that he has arrived at a conclusion. “But if we live long enough… I won’t tell him I kissed you first. Wasn’t our fault.” She pokes a finger at him. “You better not tell either.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mal replies, wholeheartedly. She flings herself into his arms and hugs him desperately, like the child buried when vast cruelty turned her adult. He holds her tightly, protector, happy with that role. He whispers in her ear, “Go on in now, afore they see and get to clucking over you with worry—won’t stop for hours.”

She chuckles against his chest and then shoves him away. 

As he merges with the crowd, he thinks on her revelation. He gets lost in the tangle of threads that is the state of his crew, until he finds himself in front of a modest townhouse up a fine street, an avenue strolled by the sort of folk with whom Mal rarely mingles. His heart speeds. Without any illusions, and with something bordering on shyness, he taps the keypad with his private code. 

“Mal.” The man’s electronically filtered voice resonates through his core. Shiv sounds pleased to see him, anticipatory. The first door, metal, whooshes open and efficiently shuts nigh on his coat tails, holding him for a brief moment in the opaque glass vestibule. The second door opens inward, and Shiv rests his cheek on the smooth wood. His bright green eyes blink, instantly fascinating. “Mal,” he says again. “You look tasty.” Nothing coy about it, direct. 

Mal nods deferentially. “Appreciate you seeing me.” Being able to pay, or having been here before, doesn’t much enter into Shiv’s choices for appointments.

The door opens wide. “I wish you would book more than twice a year.” Shiv cocks his head. “I will _always_ make space for you. Come in.”

Mal is hard, _was_ hard before the first door opened, at the sound of Shiv’s voice. He steps through into the receiving room, which smells lightly of expensive wood, leather, and spicy oils. Shiv’s furniture is luxurious but not fussy. Every pillow is tautly overstuffed. Perhaps not so subliminal. 

His host doesn’t go far, just a pace or three into the open space, retrieving two glasses from a high table. Thin, rough-silk clothing clings. Mal gently bites the inside of his cheek to slow himself. 

They are of a height, Shiv a bit more slender, with the articulated muscles of an acrobat. Mal always feels ill-made when he first arrives. In the early days, he spoke some of the self-deprecating things he felt. Shiv disabused him of it. Thoroughly.

“I think sober would be best,” Mal says, trying not to obviously clear his throat.

“Do you?” Shiv replies, a slight smile showing pointed canines. He hands Mal one glass and sips from the other. 

Mal takes a drink, surprised to find cold spice tea. His brow wrinkles. Shiv smiles and switches glasses with him. The drink is the same. “How is it you always know?”

Shiv mock sighs. “If I didn’t, would you come back?” He looks Mal over, slowly, openly. Which also gives Mal license to re-familiarize. Bright auburn hair, darker, thick eyebrows, swooping nose, a pristine shave this time—not always the case—strong jawline, arching neck. Mal stops there to keep himself in check. Shiv observes, “You’ve had a rough half-year. Leaner times. Sadness. Too much time with your own hands.” The bright eyes flick back to Mal’s. Shiv smiles a bit wider, still gentle. “Still dancing avoidance with Inara?”

Mal snorts. “On and off. She’s away at present.”

“You should lay that girl before you’re too old to appreciate some of her gifts,” Shiv says, bluntly.

“You’re younger than her,” Mal retorts. “I can keep up.”

Shiv shrugs. “Not really my point.” He taps his cheek. “And you still haven’t gone a single round with Jayne.”

“Best not. He needs a tight leash.” Mal stands as easy as he can while Shiv circles him. A firm hand squeezes his shoulder. 

“You could have him, and still hold the leash. I could teach you that.”

The tone of voice makes him harder, which he didn’t think possible. “I’m here, because I want _you_.”

“Yes. But also because you deny yourself what you shouldn’t. Day upon day.” Shiv circles back to face him. He doesn’t step in. 

Sometimes, Shiv takes him like a storm, right here, against the wall or bent over the divan. Mal can sense that this is not going to be one of those times, and he’s almost disappointed. Mal closes the space, cradles Shiv’s head in both hands, and kisses him. Kissing Shiv is always miraculous, without the things between them that most men carry. This time, it begins soft and yearning, Mal loses track. It starts to make him desperate. He eases away, but Shiv follows, deepening, fingers digging into Mal’s ass, pulling him tight so that Mal can feel how hard Shiv is.

The kiss breaks for a moment. “Not here,” Shiv says. He takes Mal’s sleeve and leads him through familiar rooms and then to a previously unopened door, rich wood but plain. 

Mal doesn’t ask, he has learned to trust. Here, anyway. Shiv keys a code and they enter a simple chamber with a high bed and side tables, furnished in soft greys and browns. It smells different, more personal. Mal guesses that they are in Shiv’s own room, or perhaps a replica of it. He knows better than to say anything. Shiv shoulders the door shut.

Spinning him around, Mal unknots Shiv’s tunic and unravels the tricky wrap of it, baring white skin spattered with tiny freckles. He spreads a hand on Shiv’s chest, appreciating hard muscles shifting underneath. Sparse, tight curls of red and gold hair lead downward. Mal’s hand follows, then his lips touch and trail behind as he sinks to his knees. Shiv’s strong hands delve into Mal’s hair, caressing, and Mal nudges into the touch. But he’s on a quest, and while generally a patient man, he’s not to be denied the ample hardness now within reach.

Mouth full, he groans. Too many times this past year he has thwarted this impulse with someone or another. His other hand grips Shiv’s thigh. Shiv throbs in his mouth, responding to the fervor. The first tiny sound escapes the other man’s lips. Mal swirls his tongue and Shiv exclaims aloud, fist tightening in Mal’s hair. Mal makes an encouraging noise, and plunges Shiv deeper. This is a man, no disguises, a man’s man, and Mal’s having him. Shiv thrusts forward. Mal welcomes, pushes back, his throat raw, his face wet with saliva and sudden tears. 

“Malcolm,” Shiv says, voice deepened, “I’m fucking your mouth, filling you until you can hardly breathe.” Mal moans in reply. “But you still manage to add all the trimmings. Ah!” His hips move steadily, not more than Mal can take, but almost. All Mal’s concentration is focused on giving this pleasure. Shiv doesn’t try to stop him, he goes willingly where Mal insists, but he does fight the end, and Mal loves that, battles until his mouth floods with sharpness and he swallows victory. 

Shiv strokes Mal’s face lovingly. “They would have avariciously accepted your raw talent at the academy. But you’re generally ungovernable and contrary to the untrained eye, despite being deeply disciplined underneath.” 

Mal releases him. He runs fingers along the mostly-hard length, making it jump. At least twice a week, he replays to himself this cock and all the things they've done together. Fortunately, it’s accompanied by an intriguing person who is urging him up off his heels. “I believe you like me ungovernable.”

“Oh, yes,” Shiv breathes into his hair, nose tracing behind his ear, down his neck, while making short work of his clothing. “I find that apparently stubborn horses are often the most sensitive. A strong hand comforts the animal, and when you’ve worked together a time, you find you both want to ride to the same destination after all.”

Instead of taking issue with being the horse in this metaphor, Mal is quivering with the images, transported first to watching Shiv gentle a wary beast, the strong but favored smell in his nostrils, and then becoming that same creature under Shiv’s hands. “I know I said _sober_ ,” he murmurs, “but I’m near to losing it.”

Shiv clucks at him, “I have you, don’t worry.” He nips softly at Mal’s throat. “Besides, shouldn’t you want to let go as many times as you can with me? You’re making up for five months without anyone else’s touch.” His hand brushes Mal’s cock soothingly. “As you know, I could hold you back, a pressure point here, a stroke there.” Mal feels himself easing, still hard, but the edge is drifting away. Shiv kisses him again, full lips luxurious, teeth grazing, and Mal is back on the brink in a moment. Tumbling him to the bed, Shiv takes a firm grip. “But I’m not going to.” Deft and sure, he works through seven or eight strokes and there’s nothing in the ‘verse could stop the thundering pleasure that follows. 

When his breath comes back, Mal’s throat is doubly raw. Shiv is wiping him down, beginning at Mal’s chin. “I love to watch that,” Shiv says, low in his chest. “Your particular brand of maturity is welcome, my teasing notwithstanding. You come like you’re sixteen and you suck cock like you've had a hundred men.” 

Mal chuckles. “Only if you count the ones in my head.”

Shiv reclines next to him, stroking idly over chest and belly. “You never talk about two of your crew. The boy and girl.”

Generally suspicious of inquiry, Mal tries not to let show that even Shiv, who could have sold him twenty times over by now, can’t be trusted with some information. This information. Because the Alliance will almost always get what they want, leaving a ruin behind. He isn’t Malcolm Reynolds in the appointment book.

Shiv smiles an easy smile. “I’m not asking business questions, but there is some personal probing that needs doing. The Shepherd moved on. They haven’t. You’ve talked about everyone else.” He closes his eyes. “And right now, whether you mean to or not, you’re feeling protectiveness and fear.”

Mal shakes his head. “Between you and River, I don’t know as I have a thought that isn’t known.” To Shiv’s quizzical brow, he answers, “That’s the girl. She’s as close to a real psychic as I’ve known. Though you’re second.”

Shiv chuckles. “I’m not psychic. Intuitive. Empathic. I feel much of what you feel. Occasionally, I see an image. That’s all.” He touches Mal’s cheek. “She unsettles you.”

“She’s a conundrum. A brilliant and messed up child. Saw me as a father, and I guess I wasn’t opposed to slipping into the role. But lately.…” Mal’s shoulders squirm into the sheets. “She picks up too strongly on others’ emotions, sometimes plays them out beyond her own will. The other night, a particularly _frustrating_ night, she climbed into my lap and read me, out loud. I had to rely upon sheer force of will not to—“ Mal pauses and scrubs a hand over his face.

Quiet for a moment until Mal doesn’t go on, Shiv interjects, “I’m guessing that you haven’t even allowed yourself to play it out in your mind. You’re giving this more than its due. Speak it and be done with it.” His hand shifts to circle over Mal’s heart, counterclockwise. Mal doesn’t really get the intricacies of Shiv’s body-mind work, but he knows by now that it’s the best medicine he’s found. 

Mal swallows over a lump of reticence. He closes his eyes. “River’s dark and willowy, something between Ophelia and sane. She’s smarter than ten of me, but for some reason, she’s taken a liking to me from the start. She’s a fighter one second, hiding under the bed the next. I wish I understood, maybe I could ease the hurt.”

“You’re so protective of her.”

“She needs it. Her brother can’t be everywhere at once, much as he tries.” A sudden intrusive thought of striking Simon in anger makes him flinch. Simon’s blue eyes, his careful hands, his dauntless mouth. 

“Leave him aside, for the moment,” Shiv says, gently. “We’re not done with her. The other night…”

“I was worked up, hearing Kaylee and Jayne sporting. They didn’t mean to be heard, but I couldn’t _not_ hear. To think on it now, didn’t sound like sport. Maybe that’s what I couldn’t shut out.” Funny how under Shiv’s touch, connections he wouldn’t usually make come easy. “So I went to the bridge. Anyhow, she picked up on all that from me and as I said, ended up in my lap.” He feels his face flushing. “She told me my wanting is all _glowy._ ”

Shiv makes a delighted noise. “She’s a prodigy.”

“So I’ve been warned.”

“Quit avoiding, Mal. I know you didn’t touch her. What if you had?”

“After she got up on her feet again and kissed me.” Mal’s fingers drift up to his lips. “I could have responded, kissed her back, touched her waist. Any little sign would have been all I'd have had to give. She’d have wrestled my trousers open right there, hiked up her skirts and….” He can’t say it, aware that he’s stirring again at the mere thought. 

“Do you want her?”

Mal shakes his head. “I care for her. And yes, I notice her. She’s a young woman, not truly a girl any longer. Deadly smart. Beautiful in an eerie way. I doubt that those that had her in their clutches let her alone. They certainly didn’t let her mind be.” Mal suddenly feels overwhelming anger and sadness. “She’s not been afraid of me. Based on some complex irrationality, she trusts me. Those aren’t ingredients that make me want to open my britches. Makes me want to go kill bad men.”

“She told you, Mal, it was the wanting itself drew her. You’ve starved yourself. A starving man will turn cannibal if pushed far enough.”

“Plenty don’t,” Mal replies, feeling defeated.

“You didn’t,” Shiv reminds him, gently. “And if you had, you might have been the first tender man she’d known who wasn’t her brother. Wouldn’t have hurt her, but might have confused her.”

“Certainly would have confused me,” Mal replies, rubbing his eyes, trying to banish the recollection of her scent drifting around him, urging him on, and the knowledge that it would have been a sweet relief to get inside her. Shiv’s fingers keep moving, swirling, and the feeling fades. Something else surfaces. “Name _Electra_ mean something?” 

“Mythological woman who developed an unhealthy fixation on her father, bordering on the sexual, killed her mother for hurting him.”

Mal chuckles ruefully. “She tried to tell me this morning that everything is okay, that she isn’t confused—she isn’t that woman. Long as I tended to the glowy soon.” He sighs, and all he feels is warm toward her. “You’re medicinal, in addition to being the most irresistible man I’ve ever known.”

“Mmm,” Shiv purrs, “I like the sound of that. But my father used to say dinner always tastes better when you’re hungry.”

Rolling toward him and propping on an elbow, Mal regards him soberly. He guesses Shiv to be around twenty-five. Companion training begins early, but the physical training doesn’t start until the later teens. He’s been seeing Shiv for nigh on five years. Eleven times. Every visit has been memorable. “I didn’t patronize a Companion before you.”

“I figured. You didn’t have a history logged.” Shiv looks bemused. “No reviews. And we use facial recognition, not names.”

It had never occurred to Mal, and he feels embarrassed all over again. Odd that they’d never spoken of it until now. “Never thought it right to pay for sex. No offense intended.”

“You’re not paying me for sex.”

“Now see, that’s just all sorts of confusing.”

Shiv laughs. “A topic for another time. I’m more interested in why you came to me, given what you just said.”

“Saw you at a shindig. That welcome home for the governor’s daughter—you were at her elbow the whole night. Lovely as she was, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“I remember _you_ , of course.”

Mal feels quizzical, until he realizes. “Oh. I attempted to be discreet and all.”

“You were. I mark the pulse in someone’s throat when we’re introduced. To see if it speeds up.”

“Lucky everything was tucked and wrapped tidy in those fancy clothes,” Mal added. “Else you’d have noticed more than my pulse.”

Shiv pulls him in for a lingering kiss. He shifts Mal under him and rolls above. Nuzzling after the kiss, he says, “You’re one of a kind, Mal. I have several ones-of-a-kind in my patronage, but I appreciate you on a very personal level. That’s why you’re in my bed today. The one I sleep in all alone. Had an impulse to share it with you.”

Mal can’t think of anything worthy to say, just accepts the warm gaze for a long moment or two and contemplates that this is the steadiest intimate relationship he’s had in years. Right now, it feels nigh on romantic. He supposes it’s meant to, and no matter how personalized Shiv makes it, there’s a transactional nature in the background that Mal both can’t shake and can’t do without. 

“Ask me what you’re buying,” Shiv says, uncanny like.

“What am I buying?” Mal asks, husky now from both rawness and renewed want.

“Freedom. The knowledge that I won’t pursue you or have expectations. That I’ll keep a _professional_ distance. And that your enemies won’t ever come looking for me. Guaranteed.” Shiv’s face seems unguarded. “Everything else I do with you is mutual.”

Whether it’s real or part of the illusion is impossible to distinguish. Mal decides that for now, it doesn’t matter, not with this magnificent cock pressing against him, which he wants several ways at once. “That’s a mighty compliment.”

“It is.” Shiv strokes a thumb over the set of Mal’s jaw. “I think we’re done talking for the moment, I’ve a nagging ache needs solace.”

Mal can’t help but smile at the spot-on reflection of his own cadence. He slides the loose tunic off Shiv’s shoulders and gathers it down the long, sweeping back until he can grasp Shiv’s ass through the fabric. Tantalizing. His fingers slip under the silk, pushing it off. “I don’t suppose I need to explain to a canny fellow like you what to do with that ache.”

Lifting up, Shiv flips him to his belly, and it takes a bit of breath away for Mal to know that he wasn’t really helping with the maneuver. Shiv knows exactly when to manhandle him, understands his occasional desire to tangle with someone much bigger and stronger, like Jayne. Fingers that are somehow cool with lube that appeared from nowhere slip between his cheeks. 

Tense all over as he is with anticipation, he breathes deeply, trying to ease the moment when those fingers enter, smoothing, pressing, seeking. They hesitate for a second. Painstakingly administered lubricant threatens to escape, and Mal tries heroically not to spasm in reaction.

“You thought I’d take you straightaway.” 

Darned if he doesn’t think Shiv’s voice is just a tad wobbly. “Been known to happen,” he says, wistfully. “Turns out it’s not what I truly wanted, since you have a logic-defying way of knowing what that is every time.” The words cover that he’s somewhat flustered at the recall of pilfering a syringe from the doc’s supplies—without the needle—to make himself as ready as he could think.

Shiv smooths his free hand over the curves of Mal’s ass. “Although I have done that, I’ve never taken you unprepared.” His fingers recommence swirling, brushing bright sparks loose.

“I wanted you not to have to bother this time.” Mal presses his forehead into the sheet but can’t help an involuntary clutch at Shiv’s fingers. Shiv gently slips them free. A quiet snap signals the rest of his readiness. Mal’s suddenly covered by Shiv’s rangy body, lips brushing at his ear, cock pressing insistently along the cleft of his ass.

“That’s romantic, or desperate to be ridden, in either case, wholly arousing.” He bites Mal’s earlobe just so, causing the slightest needle of pain, and even though Mal knows the technique, it works, he sucks in a breath and arches his back without thinking to do it. Shiv slides home in a long, smooth, confident movement. 

Mal whimpers, a little at the pain that accompanies the largesse that partially motivates his visits here, and a bit at the welcoming feeling. Legs outside Mals’ pressing tight, Shiv doesn’t so much thrust at first as undulate. 

“I love your body,” Shiv murmurs, “the way you feel against me, around me, it’s so natural. Like home.” 

Mal groans. He doesn’t speak and knows he doesn’t need to with this man who almost, not quite, feels what he’s feeling. Forearms and hands entwine with his. The movements are hypnotic and he goes with the flow, loses a little time, until his body demands more. 

He manages to press back, meet each slight impact a bit harder, sending shards of pleasure into his cock. He’s about to say something when Shiv loosens his hold, levers an arm under Mal’s waist and steps back off the bed, pulling Mal with him, remaining hilted the whole time. Mal gets his own feet under him. Following the guidance of the hand on his back that urges his torso to remain on the bed, he relaxes as much as he can. It’s a lot of movement for his inner muscles and they spasm hard, making Shiv gasp. 

Contrary to what might seem naturally calming, Shiv thrusts full-force, once, and the shock of it rolls through Mal--he almost comes right then. But he knows Shiv has taken the measure of his tolerance many times, so he doesn’t speak up. Slowly, Shiv resumes moving. Again, Mal almost loses it when Shiv braces a hand on the bed next to his hip, reaches under and grasps him. And then the real fucking starts, the kind he has replayed many times alone in his bunk. There’s no mirror in this room, but there have been enough times that he knows what Shiv looks like curling around him, driving into him. He closes his eyes, surrounded by everything safe and comforting, and lets a surpassing handsome and sharp-witted man pound him into oblivion, past the edge of black.

He wakes in near-dark, dimness filtering through opaque skylights. Every muscle is tired, but not the hurting kind of tired, the replete kind, the kind he’s almost forgotten could be had. Earlier, half asleep, he found the bathroom, and downed a waiting glass of something delicious. Shiv had been out of the room then, but he’s curled next to Mal now, waking up at the stirring. A strong hand strokes along his side. Mal props on an elbow and with eyes adjusted to the dark, enjoys his soulfully handsome bedmate. “Thank you,” he says. Simple. Honest.

Shiv stretches. “That implies that I gave you something I didn’t receive in return. You’re welcome, and thank you.”

Mal chuckles. 

“Let’s talk about what’s on the other side of the _glowy_.”

“I happen to like it there on occasion, in the black.”

“You’re safe with me. You wouldn’t be so with everyone. You know it, so you keep apart from anyone until you can’t stand it any longer.”

Mal gives its due, contemplates for a long minute. “Nothing untrue about that.”

“I’m not complaining, and I appreciate the trust. But there’s more to you than avoidance or complete surrender. Nuances. Power waiting to get loose.”

“I have responsibilities.”

“Yes. And they are substantial. But you can still be your human self with another, not just the captain. You lavish your love on your crew as your family, you just don’t name it what it is. And that’s still not all I mean. You’re ignoring someone close to hand who could be more.” 

He flashes on Simon. He could mentally berate River for planting the idea, but truth is it’s been sprouting a long time. He sighs. “There’s all kinds of no-way-in-the-‘verse about that one.”

“I think you’re mistaken. Don’t rule him out. It might take time, but you’re never in a rush with such things anyway.” Even in the near-dark, Mal can see a smile quirk. “Well, almost never.” His brow tightens. “Mal, two or three or four hard fucks a year isn’t how we were meant to live. And it isn’t all you need.”

Shiv’s earnestness grabs something soft in Mal’s chest and tweaks it. He slides over and brings their mouths together, putting into the kiss his deep appreciation. Usually, he thinks, no one worries about his hurts, which isn’t quite so, Zoe does, but she never says so. And Simon does, veritably fusses over the smallest nick. Which Mal usually punishes. He pushes these thoughts aside to focus on the man right next to him. 

Shiv rolls to his back, pulling Mal atop, still deep in the kiss. They’re both renewed, and Mal isn’t sure whose anticipatory wet is between them, maybe both. When Shiv breaks the kiss, Mal goes to work on his neck and throat. 

“It has to be a year since you fucked me,” Shiv husks, voice strained as he arches his throat into Mal’s lips and teeth. “Haven’t sworn off, have you?”

“There’s just never enough time for everything,” Mal murmurs against Shiv’s skin. “But if you aren’t too tired…”

The answer resolves in the form of Shiv insinuating his hands between them, the soft snap of chemsilk enclosing Mal’s length. Elegant legs shift out from under, making room but only just, so that Mal has to deliberately knee Shiv’s thighs aside. The man has become so satiny and yielding under him that the firestorm of earlier seems only distantly possible--except that Mal’s ass aches. He enters almost reverently, gently, it isn’t his way to give rough, only to want to take it that way from time to time. None of that needs to be explained to Shiv, it is understood between them. Mal lavishes slow attention, rocking them together. It’s likely the last coupling this visit, and he makes it last until there is no staving it off for either of them and his own climax echoes back in Shiv’s voice and body.  
*******

River isn’t the first person he sees back on the ship. “Hey, Cap,” Jayne greets him from above, halfway up the stairs, go-bag slung over his shoulder with Vera. Mal hadn’t bothered taking anything with him, but Jayne’s always ready to be ambushed or abandoned—Mal takes note. 

“Good to see you.” He means it. 

Jayne grunts, a little surprised. “Your shore leave might’ve been better than mine,” he replies, smiling just sort of a grin. “Don’t begrudge it, mind you, I like a less techy captain.” 

Mal plays his role, best not to disturb functioning relationships. But some could use work. He stops by the infirmary. It’s spic and span but empty of Simon’s brooding presence. Turning to go, Mal finds himself chest to chest with River. She doesn’t step back, so he does. She appears to be scrutinizing his face, but he imagines she’s riffling through the cargo hold of his mind.

“Good,” is all she says. 

He leans over and kisses atop her head. “Any idea where your brother is?”

“Oh, somewhere, agonizing. He’s not ready yet.” She tilts her head. “But you are. I hope he figures it out.” She nudges into his arms and rests her head on his chest. It’s another childlike moment and he takes it as such, wrapping her in close. “Mal,” she says, and he takes heed of the warning notes. “Rough skies ahead. I’m slipping again. Don’t know why. They’ll all be afraid of me before it’s over.”

“I’ve got you, _mei-mei_. Both of you are me and mine now, just like the others.” He walks her to the mess, sits her down with a cup of tea that he makes himself. And then he goes to the bridge to watch the line between atmo and black vanish.


End file.
